Chapter 8 Igniting Hatred

One month had passed since France's surrender, with the German occupation headquarters in Paris facing off against the Vichy French government. Both sides had stabilized along the boundary line established by the German-French ceasefire agreement. Under the leadership of Marshal Pétain, most French people had come to accept the reality peacefully. The Free French movement, led by the former Deputy Minister of National Defense and Army, Charles de Gaulle, had stubbornly carried on, akin to historical struggles. However, due to the meager number of French soldiers who managed to evacuate to England during the Dunkirk evacuation in this timeline, the Free French movement was reduced to mere rhetoric across the English Channel, urging their fellow countrymen to rise up for freedom.

With guns but no artillery, facing German armored vehicles and tanks meant certain death, rendering the notion of freedom futile.

However, there were indeed some guerrilla groups and underground resistance organizations in France, mainly active in the German-occupied areas of northern and central France. They made use of the weapons left behind by the French army during its retreat and engaged in skirmishes with the formidable German occupation forces and SS units. Prior to France's surrender, they had even attacked German supply convoys and logistics depots. Now that the tide had turned, they had gradually retreated into the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to resurface.

As night fell, the silent streets of Amiens were occasionally interrupted by the heavy tread of boots and the eerie cries of stray cats fighting over scraps of food. Located just over a hundred kilometers south of Paris, and roughly the same distance from Dunkirk, in late May, French forces had engaged in fierce combat with the formidable German armored group led by General Kleist here for two days before being defeated. However, the German forces then advanced northward, successfully cutting off the retreat of the Anglo-French coalition forces and achieving their resounding victory at Dunkirk!

For the people of France, the war had ended with humiliation, but the people of Amiens would not forget. On the day the German troops entered the city, including the Waffen-SS, large numbers of French soldiers were massacred. While intense street fighting naturally resulted in casualties, some of those killed had already laid down their arms, and among them were innocent civilians. History was often written by the victors, and the Germans never mentioned this; the people of Amiens buried their hatred deep in their hearts.

With the benevolent assistance of the local German occupation authorities, the city, which had once fallen into semi-ruin, had finally regained some vitality in recent times. However, the bustling and peaceful Amiens of peacetime was probably gone forever!

In a room with thick curtains drawn, a candle flickered, casting a dim light despite the absence of wind.

"Hey, how could that girl end up with two Germans? From her accent, she must be French, right?" spoke a woman in her fifties, her figure slightly plump, her dark brown hair cascading naturally like a waterfall as she held a needle, mending a pair of men's trousers by the candlelight.

Sitting on another chair, the man seemed slightly frail, with a noticeably balding head. In terms of appearance, the contrast between the husband and wife was striking.

"Why do you care so much? Nowadays, all kinds of people exist. At least, following Germans ensures she won't go hungry!" There was a tinge of bitterness in his words. The young woman in the floral dress looked like a freshly bloomed flower, her slender and fair legs peeking out from under the hem of her skirt, adorned with a brand-new pair of leather shoes.

The woman sighed, "What a pity for the girl! If her parents knew she was consorting with Germans, they would be heartbroken! Those damned German devils only know how to defile French women!"

"Shh... Keep your voice down, or we're done for!" The man was nervous because the two German officers were spending the night in their inn, and the French girl in the floral dress was sharing a room with the higher-ranking officer.

The woman obediently closed her mouth, but curiosity and gossip were in her nature. A few minutes later, she couldn't help but whisper again, "Hey, where do you think they're headed? It's rare for German officers to spend the night in a French inn, isn't it?"

"Stop making a fuss over nothing!" The man grumbled, "They probably plan to drive to some far-off place. It's quite troublesome to stay in barracks of other units. It's simpler to spend a night in an ordinary inn!"

"But aren't they afraid..." The woman spoke, waving her embroidery needle.

"They aren't afraid of death, but we are!" The man said irritably, "Do you know what would happen to the people around here if a German officer died in our inn?"

The woman froze, unable to utter a word.

After a moment of silence, there suddenly came a creaking sound from upstairs. The couple exchanged glances, their expressions conveying different emotions.

The sound continued for about half an hour, occasionally accompanied by the woman's soft gasps. Finally, with a sigh of "Ah," the world fell quiet again.

"Beasts!" the man muttered under his breath, the implications behind his words known only to himself.

"Better get some sleep. When day breaks, they'll surely leave," the woman yawned lazily, heading towards the bed. She knew that ever since a dozen years ago, her man had lost the vigor of his youth, while the German officer of higher rank was not only young and handsome but also quite robust in appearance. If it weren't for the deep-seated animosity between Germany and France, she might have entertained some fantasies in her mind.

The balding man climbed onto the bed dispiritedly. However, not long after they had settled down, there was suddenly another faint creaking sound from the stairs. Moments later, their door was gently knocked.

The man wanted to pretend he hadn't heard, but with a nudge from the woman, he reluctantly groped his way to the table, struck a match, lit a candle, and then went to open the door.

"Save me!" the disheveled woman, barefoot and with her hair in disarray, almost stumbled as she entered the room.

A foul stench immediately pervaded the air.

By the dim candlelight, the balding man recognized the young woman with a clear face. She was wearing an oversized shirt that almost dwarfed her figure, with her thighs and slender legs exposed. The most deadly temptation lay in this elusive sense of allure.

Glancing outside, the middle-aged man saw no one in the stairwell or corridor before carefully closing the door.

"What's wrong, miss?"

"He..." Now in a relatively safe environment, the young woman seemed unable to hold back her fear and grievance any longer, clinging to the man's thigh and bursting into tears.

The middle-aged woman, who had by now climbed out of bed, hurriedly helped the pitiful French girl to her feet. "What happened?"

The delicate young woman, tears streaming down her face, cried, "I was forced! Forced! They took my brother and sister, forced me..."

"Beasts!" the middle-aged woman cursed indignantly.

The man stood by helplessly, watching the elfin-like and delicate woman. Even though there were hunting rifles in the cupboard capable of smashing a wild boar's skull, he felt powerless now.

Under the middle-aged woman's comforting, the young girl sobbed for a while, her consciousness gradually clearing. Suddenly, she grabbed the sharp knife from the sewing basket on the table, gritted her teeth, and said, "I want to kill those German dogs!"

"No, miss!" the middle-aged woman exclaimed in alarm, quickly grabbing her. "You can't take them on alone. Besides, if there's any sign of a struggle, the patrol guards will be here soon, and none of us will survive!"

The girl hesitated for a moment, then softened. At that moment, the middle-aged woman noticed bloodstains on the girl's inner thighs and hurriedly asked her man to fetch some cotton swabs.

"No need, it's my maiden blood!" the young girl said with a helpless and somewhat numb tone.

"Beasts!" the couple cursed in unison.

"Oh, by the way, can you find the guerrilla group?"

The girl suddenly grasped the hand of the middle-aged woman and asked imploringly, "Can you find the guerrilla group?"

"Well..." The woman glanced somewhat awkwardly at her husband. "But the guerrilla group can't possibly assassinate Germans in the city!"

"No!" the young woman said decisively. "I obtained important information from the Germans, which may concern the lives of thousands of French people!"

"Thousands?" Even the balding man, not to mention his middle-aged wife, looked astonished.

"They thought I didn't understand German, so they talked a lot along the way. But I actually understood some of it. They were talking about a German general who not only is coming to inspect France but also plans to set up some terrible concentration camps and isolation zones, like they did in Poland. The first targets will be captured French soldiers!"

"Concentration camps and isolation zones?" The French couple was shocked once again.

"Oh, yes, and I think I can steal a weapon blueprint from that officer's briefcase. From what they said, it seems to have been confiscated from the guerrilla group in Lille. It's called... a roadside bomb! Just wait here; I'll go get it!"

"Hey, be careful..." The middle-aged woman was about to say more but was stopped by her man.

"Quick, get me some drawing paper, a ruler, and a pen!" the balding man gritted his teeth.

"You haven't used those things in years. Why do you need them now?" The woman was still processing.

"Tsk! Do you think we can take the blueprint with us? It's safer to make a copy!" The balding man suddenly seemed to regain the ambitious spirit of his youth.